The Boy
by gymjunky71
Summary: Before the Dementor Attack of 1995, Dudley watches Harry deteriorate. Climaxing the day after Dudley's 15th birthday. Dudley POV. Rated for cursing & mature themes. Mentions of depression & PTSD. Complete.


**The Boy**

To list the differences between the bickering Potter and Dursley cousins, the easiest list would be their appearances. Dudley had flat blond hair, Harry had spiky black. Dudley's eyes were plain blue, Harry's were an eerie green. Dudley was big and tall, Harry was underweight and tall. With the obvious physical difference, Dudley was the perfect, spoiled son.

Harry was the ungrateful orphan.

Dudley had once thought that no one could hate The Boy coming home for the summer holidays more than he did but Harry might have him made this year. His parents, Vernon and Petunia, had received a letter from Hogwarts about someone attacking Harry and killing a classmate. But, they were entirely unperturbed of course. This was to be expected of Harry's Kind. They had tried to squash it out of Harry long ago.

Harry had made his choice. So, they picked him up at the train station with no more enthusiasm than the summers before. Dudley tried to remember what The Boy had looked like on that day. Harry had been so quiet but otherwise appeared healthy. Healthier than he had ever looked pre-Hogwarts, at least.

There was a definite change in his body language. Whereas before he was snarky and sarcastic, Harry was now depressed. That was saying something as Dudley had never known hardship. Harry sagged dejectedly in his seat, leaning his head against the car window, not seeing anything. To Dudley's delight, The Boy kept himself hold up in his bedroom for the next few weeks.

He never came down to join them for supper. As if he were ever welcome to before, but Dudley thought he used to do it to spite them. A day or two would go by with his meals abandoned on the countertop before Mrs. Dursley would feel obligated to take his food to him - to keep him from dying and causing them all kinds of trouble, of course. Like _they _were the bad guys. Dudley would relish overhearing his mum or dad berate Harry from upstairs.

With these annoyances so few, it was easy for Dudley to forget that The Boy was even home. Then there came The Night, exactly two weeks after they picked him up from King's Cross Station.

"Ced-Cedric," he heard Harry moan.

Dudley was trying to fall asleep when he heard a loud _thud_ from Harry's room. Too loud for a stomp or a punch. Then the Boy started screaming.

"CEDRIC! CEDRIC! NO! CEDRIC!" Harry's roar was dulled by the wall between them but was clear enough.

That blasted owl started screeching and hooting. He could hear its wings flapping loudly. Aren't owls supposed to be quiet hunters?!

When Harry kept on screaming, Dudley called without getting out of his bed, "Dad! _**DAD**_! Make Harry shut-up!"

He heard his father yelling at Harry to be quiet without leaving their bedroom, like father like son. However, this had no effect on Harry. The banging grew more insistent and Harry just went on screaming about some bloke named Cedric. Dudley had never heard of him nor did he care to find out while he was tired and cranky.

If Harry did not stop making such a racket, Dudley will _make _The Boy regret it. There came his father banging open his bedroom door and stopping down the hall, followed by his mum's daintier footfalls.

Dudley frowned when he heard his mum shriek, "Oh, my word! _Vernon_!"

Curiosity peaked, Dudley threw off his blankets and joined his parents out in the narrow hall. Harry's bedroom door was open as wide as Dudley's mouth was gaped. Harry's bed was floating up and back down hard on the floor. This was magic and Dudley was terrified of it. Dudley will never forget when that giant of a wizard, Rubeus Hagrid, gave him a pig's tail.

Harry was gripping his blankets and did not have his glasses on. He was still asleep! He was not aware of what he was doing ... and that was even scarier.

"DON'T KILL CEDRIC!" Harry pleaded, his low voice wobbly, thrashing his head about.

Mr. Dursley bravely charged at Harry, "Stop it! STOP THIS NOW! Wake-up, Boy!"

Shaking Harry wasn't working. So, his uncle struck him across the jaw with the back of that meaty hand. That loud _whack! _made both Dudley and Mrs. Dursley jolt. The bed landed on the ground and moved no more. The owl screeched her loudest ever and dove at Mr. Dursley, curved talons unfurled.

Yelling, Mr. Dursley ducked but was scratched along his beefy arm. Hedwig landed on Harry's pillow and she nestled her soft head against the spot where Mr. Dursley had struck him. She glared at the Dursleys for hurting her owner, her golden eyes narrowed with fury. This was not an ordinary owl, either. Nothing about The Boy was ordinary.

Eventually, Harry's emerald eyes blinked deliriously up at his owl and he frowned at the ache in his jaw. Then he saw the Dursleys standing in his doorway.

"Show's over. Back to bed." Mr. Dursley announce curtly and left the bedroom, though visibly shaken.

Mrs. Dursley attending to the cut on his arm, she managed to plant a kiss easily on Dudley's forehead because he was too shell-shocked to shirk away. Dudley stared transfixed at Harry. Harry's hair was greasy, his tan had faded away completely, and he was thinner than the last time Dudley laid eyes on him. It wasn't his parents fault that Harry was refusing meals. Harry rose from the bed and crossed the room, fixing Dudley with a most hateful glare.

Those almond-shaped, emerald eyes can flash scarily sometimes, enough to make the hairs of Dudley's body stand on end. Dudley saw that Harry's lip was bloodied. Then he slammed the door shut in Dudley's face. Dudley hovered in the hall, too stunned to move. Eventually, he must have gone back to bed because that's where he awoke the next morning.

* * *

><p>Dudley thought he saw Harry pick up one plate every one or two days after that. Maybe Harry was embarrassed about The Night and wanted to prove he was not. Instead of being holed up in his bedroom, Harry took to walking around the neighborhood. Sometimes, Dudley spotted Harry while he was off with his gang.<p>

If he didn't hate Harry so much for disrupting his nights so often, Dudley might have felt sorry for him. The Boy did look very depressed. With the lack of regular meals, his weight dropped notably each time Dudley laid eyes on him. The neighbors gossiped about him, worrying why he was allowed to wander the streets when he's supposed to be 'dangerous'. What with hitting 5'8" due to his growth spurt, his weight not keeping up, and his unattractive pale-white skin, Harry fit such a profile.

Of course, The Boy was blamed for all the property damage that Dudley and his gang were responsible for. The Boy was useful in that regard, at least. It hardly made up for disrupting the Dursleys' sleep with his obvious PTSD.

"The neighbors have some missing gardening equipment. Told me they don't believe Harry looks strong enough to take their lawn mower." Mrs. Dursley was saying.

Mr. Dursley scoffed, "He's got you-know-what, doesn't he? He can get away with anything."

Mrs. Dursley reminded her husband, "He's not allowed to use 'it' outside of 'his world'."

Mr. Dursley shrugged, "Refusing our cooking is another thing. None of this is on us. He's got to shape up before I do it myself and he'll regret that. Very much, indeed."

For his 15th birthday, Dudley was getting the house to himself. His mum and dad were invited away to a convention by his drilling company. But, Dudley knew better than to have a party at his house. He wasn't allowed. He could not disrupt his mum's vision of him as the perfect son.

He might not get the gifts he will want for next year. So, he arranged with his gang and some students from school to sneak into a London nightclub. This meant that _Harry _was going to have the house to himself.

"I'm leaving a cake in the fridge. If I see you've stuck your finger in it, I'll kill you." Dudley warned Harry. "... And if you tell my mum and dad where I went, I'll kill you all over again."

Harry smiled at him and croaked, "Happy Birthday, Ickle Diddykins."

His voice sounded hoarse probably because of all the screaming he did during the night. It was his own fault. But, there was something about the look Harry was giving Dudley. He might have _meant _the sentiment. The Boy was too confusing for Dudley.

"Fuck off." Dudley grunted, leaving.

Sneaking into the nightclub with their fake IDs was easy enough due to Dudley's large size. He was 5'10" and some of this fat was traded in for muscle. They danced with women too old for them and drank alcohol with his dad's money. He did not come home until ten o'clock the next day, feeling sick and exhausted. His parents would not be arriving till six o'clock that evening.

He had time to shower and pretend to be sick from too many sweets rather than being hung-over. He slammed the front door and had his foot on the staircase when he remembered his threat to Harry. Dudley dragged himself over to the kitchen to check the fridge. There was his birthday cake, sealed in its plastic container just as he had left it. What was more, The Boy's supper from the night before was untouched, still covered in plastic wrap behind the cake.

Potatoes with meat and gravy.

Dudley was food-conscious and could remember when everyone else in the house ate. This was because of being forced to lose weight by his school. Harry has not eaten in a two days. This was the third day. Dudley swayed his way up the stairs and noticed that Harry's bedroom door was cracked.

He heard the owl clicking her beak. Nudging the door open with his shoe, he saw that Harry was lying asleep on top of his bed covers. His glasses were askew and he was not wearing a shirt, only old drawstring pants of Dudley's pulled as tight as they could go. Hedwig was nibbling at Harry's hair and ear. Dudley didn't understand why she was here if the window was wide open for her to come and go as she pleased.

Also, he was pretty sure all owls were nocturnal. This display of affection could be confused as love. Maybe Harry forgot to feed her or something. _Or maybe she's trying to get _him _to eat_, a voice told Dudley in his head. He lurched when he saw dead mice on the floor but managed not to puke.

The sun was shining brightly, right on The Boy's boney face. Dudley thought Harry might be thinner than Mrs. Dursley and that was saying a lot. Hedwig noticed Dudley standing in the doorway and he flinched reflexively, remembering his father's close call with the predatory bird Harry kept as a pet. But, she was not glaring at him. Her golden eyes were wide, pleading.

She kept her eyes on Dudley and nudged Harry's head again. Then she gave a soft _hoot_. Damn, she nearly made Dudley feel remorseful. But, why should he feel that way? The Boy has done this to himself.

Dudley figured he should check to see if Harry was breathing. His chest didn't appear to be moving. Dudley entered the room, feeling very large in his old second room. He used to keep his toys in here before Harry was moved out from the cupboard under the stairs. There was thin and then there was _skinny_.

The Boy had always been skinny but this was something else entirely. Dudley was so disturbed by Harry's sunken cheeks, dark circles, jutting clavicles, and concave stomach that he might puke on him.

"Maybe _that'll_ knock some sense into you. Not that there was every much to start with," he teased.

Wishing he had gloves, Dudley reluctantly pressed two fingers to Harry's throat. No pulse. Dudley started to panic and pressed his fingers harder. His parents were coming back in a few hours. How could he explain how The Boy died while they were absent? Dudley knew they wouldn't blame him and would fight to keep him innocent in court.

But, something else lurched to life inside Dudley: _**don't die, Harry**_. It was so foreign for Dudley to care for his cousin. He breathed a sigh of relief when he at last found Harry's pulse. It was so weak he had not felt it before. The snowy owl hooted at Dudley more insistently and Dudley grabbed Harry's shoulders to give him a shake.

"Harry?" Dudley said to him, feeling anxious. "Harry, wake up! You bastard!"

He did not dare hit him. He was so strong, maybe stronger than his father, that a hit from Dudley might kill Harry. Harry was thinner than the night Mr. Dursley had struck him awake. He was so terribly thin. His lips were dry and he smelled bad.

Dudley easily lifted Harry up to a sitting position, Harry's head flopping forward limply. He couldn't weigh more than 115 pounds. Guessing 120 would almost be a lie. Even if dead weight was different, Dudley has lifted weights heavier than Harry at school. Hedwig fluttered to the headboard, her hoots more distressed and pitiful.

Harry's glasses fell off. No amount of shaking or shouting at him woke Harry up. There were a few moments when Dudley thought Harry had stirred. But, this was not working. It was still a few hours to go before his parents would return. Dudley had no choice but to call for help.

Dudley left Harry alone with his pesky owl to find a phone downstairs.

"Yes, my address is Number 4, Privet Drive. Surrey, London. My cousin won't wake-up. ... Yes, he's breathing. He just won't move.

Can't move. Whatever I do ... I dunno, I can't drive. I'm only 15, my birthday was yesterday. My parents have the car. Is this gonna cost us anything?"

... No, I'm sure they _would _mind. You know what, never mind. Just come."

Dudley hung up the phone and returned to watch Harry. Hedwig was curled up to his bare chest, maybe listening for his heartbeat. Dudley felt relieved knowing that soon the ambulance would be here and The Boy would be _their _responsibility to save. Dudley had done his part and it was more than The Boy deserved. Right?

He had better thank Dudley when he wakes up. _If he wakes up_, said the nagging voice of Dudley's dusted-off consciousness. Harry's bedroom was such a mess and there was a stack of His World newspapers. Dudley recognized them for the moving photographs. He knew that if the medics saw them, more of Harry's kind would come to erase their memories like they had with their aunt Marge.

They might even expel Harry from Their World which would mean that Harry would be staying here all year. Dudley was sickened by the mere thought. He greatly looked forward to September 1st when they dropped The Boy off at King's Cross train station. Dudley scooped up the pile and dumped it unceremoniously inside Harry's wardrobe. A yellow and green Mercedes Sprinter ambulance pulled up in the driveway.

It was the middle of the day, thankfully a workday. Dudley hoped their nosy neighbors would be unconcerned with its appearance in Number 4's drive. Then again, one of the occupants was rumored to be dangerous. Two medics exited the ambulance and Dudley led them up to Harry's bedroom. The owl rocketed out the window at the sight of the strangers.

The medics crossed over to Harry, listened with their stethoscope and pinched at his skin.

"He's dehydrated and malnourished." said the female medic after the examination. "He passed out. His blood sugar is too low."

"Wha- like diabetes?" Dudley scoffed. "He hasn't got that."

She shook her head then said to the male medic, "It's like your brother a few years back, isn't it?"

"Do you have any sweets in the house, Mr. Dursley?" asked the male medic.

Dudley stammered, "N-No."

"The operator mentioned it was your birthday yesterday. Have you any cake left?" the female medic insisted, eyeing him.

Dudley sighed, "... Yes."

He went down to the kitchen to cut a slice, feeling judged by these medics for keeping it a secret. So Dudley was greedy but he called the medics therefore he was not a bad cousin. They had no right to look at him in that way. So, Dudley put the sliver on a napkin and returned to the bedroom. The female medic took the cake from him and placed a tiny pinch of it carefully on Harry's tongue.

Dudley frowned while he watched Harry remain lifeless. After an eternity, Harry's patrician nose twitched and his mouth closed. He swallowed it, his Adam's apple undulating. That was the most movement Dudley had seen him make since he came home. Finally, Harry's eyes peaked open. After a moment, Dudley could watch the gears working behind those exhausted green eyes. Without his glasses, Harry still knew the medic was a stranger and he frowned up at her.

"Harry Potter, my name is Emily. This is Rick. We're medics. Your cousin called for help. You're going to be alright." Emily showed Harry the piece of cake. "Eat this. You'll feel better. Then we'll decide if we should take you to the clinic."

"... My glasses ...," Harry asked for them weakly, his eyes rolling upward, lifting a trembling boney hand.

Rick gazed around and handed them to Harry. With his hands shaking so much, a few times Harry poked himself in the eyes before he got them on properly. Harry did as the medics instructed, finishing the piece of cake dry. There was an almost instant difference in Harry. He could sit up on his own though he was clearly sore.

"Want to tell us what lead to this?" asked Rick. "It could help explain why your cousin couldn't wake you up."

Harry shrugged, "I dunno. I haven't been feeling good the last few weeks. He didn't have to call for medics."

Dudley hid his scoff by clearing his throat. Harry clearly hasn't gotten a good look in the mirror lately.

"You have to eat, Mr. Potter. Drink plenty of water. Don't neglect yourself." said Rick. "I don't know you. But, there are no reasons to let yourself go like this."

"My friend died." Harry revealed.

That was who Cedric was, the boy Harry called out to in his nightmares. Whatever happened to this Cedric, it was bad enough for Harry to lose control and levitate his whole bed. Dudley backed out to the hallway, feeling a strange sensation like he was intruding. But, this was his house. He should not feel that way. He did not want to hear that Harry was suffering. Harry had everything he could need in the house.

He had food, running water, and a place to sleep. They even let him keep that stupid owl and his Other World belongings. Like the medic said, Harry had no reason to be depressed. It was odd to hear Harry say he had a friend who died. What kind of a school lets that happen?

Dudley was curious to know, hear all the gory details. But, Harry was not going to explain further than that.

"Well, whoever it was, would not want you to do this. I am sure of it." said Emily. "We'll leave instructions to get you back on your feet. I recommend seeking a therapist. Follow them to a T. You seem OK now. But, another day would have put you in a very precarious spot indeed, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugged and gave her a small smile, "I'm familiar with those spots."

It was a placating smile. Dudley knew it well. Harry used it in his childhood to appease his aunt and uncle whenever they were cross with him. He wasn't going to seek a therapist. The medics were fooled and did not pick up on the sarcasm.

It was the lying kind of sarcasm. Harry was poking fun at himself. That's what's made it challenging for Dudley to get a reaction out of Harry the last couple of years. Harry was too damn grounded and confident in himself for teasing. Dudley would get to him one of these days, he just needed to find the right sort of jab.

The medic wrote down some tips and were gone. Dudley heard them shut the door and the ambulance back out of the driveway. It was hard to believe that he had just gone to his first nightclub last night. Harry nearly made him forget his hung-over symptoms. With the situation diffusing, they were coming back with a vengeance.

Dudley looked green and didn't want to move. Hedwig flew in through the window and landed on Harry's lap. She snuggled up to his chest, making noises one could only describe as 'happy'. Harry saw the dead animals on his floor.

"Were those for me?" he asked his owl softly; she nuzzled him. "Not quite up my alley, Hedwig. But thanks, girl." Harry blinked up at Dudley, "What're you still standing there for?"

"This is the worst birthday I ever had." Dudley grumbled.

"Why, because I didn't die?" Harry scoffed. "You'll probably get your wish by next year, Big D. Blow out your candles, wish for it. "

There was a change in Harry. He must know that this was a close-call. It had to have been for his cousin, who supposedly hated him, to call for professional help. Dudley narrowed his eyes at Harry.

Sure, his younger cousin may drive his family crazy. But, Dudley didn't wish him dead. He was sure his life would be much easier without Harry. But, he didn't need Harry to die to get that. Dudley glared at that thin face, into those mysterious green eyes.

"Fuck you, Harry Potter." Dudley said as he departed to the bathroom.

He vomited in his toilet, feeling hung-over all at once. This wasn't going to change anything. Harry was still his punching bag. He will still blame Harry for the destruction his gang caused even if no one believed it.

They'd still be suspicious of the strange skinny boy with the lightning shaped scar and glasses either way. Dudley felt something else while he washed up. He felt a sense of pride for having done the right thing. It was fleeting, but it was there. When he came downstairs, Harry was dressed in jeans and a jumper, eating his supper in the living room.

Most people did not change their ways overnight, let alone in a matter of an hour. But, Harry was clearly scared into shaping up. Once he was done with this starving-himself stage, he went on to hovering around the family _too_ much. He'd always be watching the news and reading the paper. He still called out for Cedric but it was not as often.

Often enough to notice but Dudley was getting his sleep. At least Harry was putting weight back on and his bad attitude was steadily resurfacing. The Boy was strange and a burden to the Dursleys. Nothing more. Right?

**The End**


End file.
